A Prim Woodland

The Woodsman Tavern tastes good and looks better.

It’s Thanksgiving eve and the Woodsman Tavern is bustling.
The harried staff darts about as diners seated on iron-legged drafting
stools blend together in the richly dim room. A pale, slightly built
bartender wearing suspenders and heavy frames pours three fingers of
bourbon over cubed ice, then violently shakes it to shards. A waiter in
dark plaid with a long, scraggly beard bolts across the hardwood floor
to deliver freshly shucked oysters. A waitress with a dainty apron and a
messy ponytail slinks around him to deliver puffy, neon-orange pork
rinds.

The Woodsman is
Stumptown Coffee founder Duane Sorenson’s new pet. He’s been mentally
polishing the concept, and collecting the bucolic Hudson River
School-type mountainscapes lining the walls, for five years. The
restaurant opened in mid-October on the same block as his original
coffeehouse. Sorenson’s time and talent for curatorship are on full
display. The place is beautiful—ruggedly elegant, a superb manifestation
of our obsession with the pre-industrial. The food is not far behind.

Dinner at the
Woodsman is a little like a homily at the Sistine Chapel. Of course it’s
good—look at this place, it has to be! That’s not to be casually
dismissive of the kitchen’s accomplishments. Everything served
Thanksgiving eve, and on a subsequent visit, was well-built from fine
materials. Several dishes from the kitchen of chef Jason Barwikowski,
formerly of Olympic Provisions, reward those driving German cars from
the ’burbs to far-flung Southeast Division, all the way past the adult
theater. (I live in the neighborhood; Boxster sightings are rare.)

Seafood is a small
part of the menu but gets big play, starting at the front door where
patrons walk by an ice-filled raw bar stocked with Tillamook Bay and
B.C. oysters, Dungeness crab and prawns before encountering the hostess.
Care is taken in sourcing excellent shellfish—Sorenson has been making
field trips—and a simple cocktail of big, peeled prawns ($12) pleased
our table, though it’s hard to give much credit to the “cook.” Roasted
trout ($20) was a more impressive creation. Served whole in the skin,
with a dusting of herbs and a few cherry tomatoes in the brightly
flavorful yellow broth called “crazy water,” it could easily become the
Woodsman’s signature dish.

Artisan country hams
also get a lot of space on the brown paper menus that are in constant
flux. (We enjoyed a roasted rooster entree on one occasion; it’s
typically chicken.) The cured meats require little more than shaving,
but we happily sampled a plate of Iowa’s buttery-smooth La Quercia ($8),
a Hawkeye’s take on prosciutto. Country ham also makes a cameo in an
impressive appetizer of fingerling potatoes and chanterelles. The tender
lettuce salad topped with radishes, buttermilk dressing and a crouton
made from a Sally Lunn bun, and a smoky octopus dish flavored with salty
chorizo sauce were other standouts. A decadent pork terrine, tender
with micro-minced fat, was another fleeting but remarkable offering. (A
chicken liver version is the usual, and is reputed to be quite good.)

Plan to sample a few
first plates, and try a round or two from bar boss Evan Zimmerman’s
bourbon-heavy cocktail list, the thorough wine list, or beer offerings
tilted toward Belgium, as you may be waiting a while. Service is quick
and sharp—a napkin was refolded on two trips to the restroom—but the
kitchen seems to gear up for big nights and, paradoxically, move slowly
when things are quiet.

The bar is a worthy draw itself, having already pulled inThe New York Times’
coffee-obsessed vagabond Oliver Strand, and has both simple and complex
offerings. We favored the strikingly straightforward Goldrush, a
therapeutic blend of bourbon, lemon and honey. Coffee lovers will be
happy to hear Sorenson brings out his famous Chemex—for $7 you can get
beans brewed on a level rarely seen in a restaurant.

The
trout, as mentioned, is a stellar entree. A hearty fried pork shank
served on the bone with an aquavit-cranberry gastrique and a dab of
sauerkraut ($24) had a crunchy coat over a supple interior. Along with
the poultry dish, it’s a nice option for fishphobes. The tender flank
steak with french fries and a creamy bordelaise sauce is totally
forgettable, an obvious concession to the unpardonably unadventurous,
and will serve its ignoble purpose well.

The
only similarly boring dish is, surprisingly, the snack menu’s pork
rinds “Ala Kahan” ($4), a nod to British tavern food. The Woodsman’s
version is lightly spiced and remarkably similar to Plaid Pantry’s
chicharróns. The pork rinds are one of the few instances where Sorenson
stumbles toward what he might rightly fear: getting a little too cute.
It’s a cheapish curiosity that reminds us, compared to nearly everything
else, just how well Sorenson assembled the Woodsman. This restaurant is
like a vintage Pendleton catalog come to life, which makes it a perfect
panorama for these woolly times.

Order this: Whole roasted trout with cherry tomatoes and crazy water ($20).

Best deal: The small salad at the bottom of the menu: lettuce, lemon and olive oil ($3).